THE
DEVIL’S FIVE-HAND
By Jerry Bachs (March 6, 2013)
The cool wind breezed through the
roof deck, disturbing the calm waters of the swimming pool, snaking through
stacks of used plates, bowls, and half empty bottles of liquor and spirit, and almost
blowing away the playing cards on the table.
The three remaining people on the table instinctively pinned the cards
under their palms, preventing the cards from following the breeze.
“If they fly off the ledge, it’s a
long way down,” said Adrian.
“It is,” agreed Kara. “If they do fly off, you’ll have to go all
the way down to pick them up for us.”
“Why? It’s been an hour since your birthday.”
“But I can tell Grace to tell you to
pick them up.”
Grace just blushed.
Adrian gathered the cards and
shuffled. “But why does it have to be
me? Dennis is doing nothing.”
The two girls turned to look at
another boy sitting on a mono-block looking at the city lights. That boy, Dennis, seemed unaware, or even
indifferent, that the people at the table had turned their attention to him.
“Dennis is cleaning up for us,” Kara
replied.
“Right. All he’s been doing is emptying bottles. For a minute there, I thought that he was
going home, just like everybody else.”
“How is he going home?” Grace asked.
“Who cares?” Adrian said, lighting
another cigarette. “Let’s just play
cards.”
Adrian cut the cards twice, for
luck, before distributing two cards each for Kara, Grace, and him. He then set up the three community cards.
